The Girl is Not For Christmas: A Christmas Regency Romance Novel

by Emma V. Leech

  The ribbon tying her nightgown up slid free with ease, and King watched with his heart thudding as the material tumbled to the floor. He went to touch her and hesitated.

  “Is George…” he began anxiously.

  Livvy laughed. “There’s nothing on earth that will wake him tonight, but I did lock your door just in case.”

  Still he hesitated, remembering the children sleeping on the floor above.

  “There is no shame in loving me, King,” she whispered, moving into his embrace.

  King smiled, unable to refuse her anything and contenting himself with the knowledge that he would make it right. He would do whatever it took to persuade her, but Livvy would be his wife. She would be his. He would make certain of it.

  He lifted her into his arms, making her gasp as he swung her legs up and carried her to the bed. Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his arms and she sighed happily.

  “So strong.”

  King chuckled and lay her down and concentrated on making his wife to be lose her mind.

  Livvy was dazed and gasping, clutching at the bed. Good heavens. The man was utterly wicked, depraved, the king of sin indeed. It was marvellous. When she had seen him naked, she had simply wanted, with such force she had trembled with it. Not that it had been the first time she’d seen him naked, but it was the first time she had been able to properly study him. He was magnificent. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift her with ease, and his chest… Oh. His skin was hot like the summer sun burning upon stone, that dark hair that rasped so deliciously against her breasts curling about her fingers, and then there were the superb proportions of his… well, his everything. He was perfection.

  His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere, and she had simply closed her eyes and allowed him to do as he would with her. It had been a revelation. He had already sent her body into a burst of rapture, forcing her to turn her head into the pillow to smother her cries, but now he was kissing a path down her body, his tongue painting decadent patterns over her belly and moving lower and… and she believed she knew where he was going. Her mind became a blank, anything resembling a coherent thought lost to her as King sought out her most intimate flesh and…

  “Hush, love,” he murmured, the amusement in his voice audible. “You’ll wake the house.”

  “What did you expect? How am I supposed to…” she retorted, but the words trailed off as he went back to work and she arched beneath him. There was nothing but sensation, the warmth of his mouth and the slick slide of his tongue, and oh good heavens she would lose her mind. Now his fingers had joined his bid to turn her brain to jelly, and Livvy gasped as his clever hands caressed her in a new and intriguing way. The excited gathering sensation that his touch commanded was rippling through her once more, beckoning her on and…

  Suddenly he stopped and Livvy blinked into the dim light, disappointed.

  “King?” she said, sitting up and almost head butting him in the process as he moved towards her. “Oh!”

  “Easy there, love,” he chuckled, gently pushing her back down onto the mattress. “I can’t wait any longer. I need…”

  What he needed was evident as he settled between her thighs and Livvy’s eyes widened as she stared up at him. She had thought she would have to persuade him into making love to her, to cajole and wheedle and beg. Apparently not. What had changed his mind she did not know and did not care to ask in case he changed it back again.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked him, a little nervous now despite everything.

  “Perhaps a little,” he said, his voice soothing. “I’ll try not to cause you any discomfort, love. Relax if you can.”

  Livvy smothered a laugh at the idea of relaxing when his straining member was hot and hard and sliding against the place where her body was throbbing insistently. She might well burst into flame at any moment, relaxing she wasn’t so certain of.

  She closed her eyes and sighed as King’s mouth pressed to her throat, butterfly soft kisses moving over her skin. One large hand cupped her breast, and he ducked his head to take it into his mouth, suckling until she cried out in surprise.

  “Like that, do you?” he asked, sounding dreadfully smug.

  “I like all of it,” she admitted. “I like you.”

  King did it again, humming with pleasure as he did so until Livvy thought she might pass out. “I’m pleased to hear it,” he murmured as he drew back, flicking at her nipple with his tongue and then looking up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you relaxed yet? Please say yes.”

  Livvy laughed, as was obviously his intention. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

  Her laughter stopped abruptly as he grasped her leg, bending her knee and pressing his erection against the seam of her core. Her sensitive flesh responded at once to the press and slide as he sought entry and she jolted. King soothed her, kissing her deeply, caressing her body, easing his way inside with a gentle push and retreat that had her panting with a combination of pleasure and pain that her mind did not seem able to make sense of.

  “Oh, God, Livvy, so… so perfect… just a little… a little more…”

  “More?” she squeaked, a tad outraged as he stole her breath, and then he was fully inside her. He stilled, allowing her body to accept him. Livvy tried to steady her breathing, clutching at his big shoulders, concentrating on her palms gliding over his damp skin, moving down his body to grasp his buttocks and relish the feel of him so close, and then he moved.

  “Oh!” she cried, her eyes flying open as he retreated and thrust home again, gently at first and then with increasing speed and force and he moaned, the guttural pleasure in the sound detonating something primal inside her that had her body squeezing around him. From the fierce sound he made King liked it when she did that, so she repeated it and he gasped.

  “Don’t…” he said, his voice ragged. “Won’t last if you… Oh, Christ, Livvy.”

  He kissed her and Livvy wrapped herself around him, delighting in this newfound pleasure, heart soaring as she held him close to her, to the place where he should always be. Thoughts of tomorrow, of how she would carry on without him, were all swept away as he loved her, with the startling combination of passion and tenderness that he gave her as he made her his. She would always be his. The realisation brought her back to herself for a moment, a shining beacon of clarity through the haze of desire. There was no way she could marry another man when she would always belong to King. Perhaps he felt the way her heart leapt at the realisation for he pulled back, staring down at her in wonder.

  “I love you,” he said. “I love you. I need… always, Livvy, always…”

  His body shuddered and jerked, and the coarse exclamation he uttered sent a thrill of pleasure singing through her. The delicious sensations he had brought forth earlier were back again, stronger and more insistent, sparks firing inside her, along her spine and gathering low and all at once her body was pulsing, squeezing, grasping at him as she held on tight and called his name as the world fell away.

  King was floating… somewhere. His mind was bobbing along on a fluffy cloud of dazed happiness, warm and sleepy. His body was heavy, sated, utterly spent. He had never felt so… so complete, so perfectly content, so entirely himself, as he did in this moment, and it was all because of Livvy. Oh, Christ…

  “Livvy?” he pushed himself off her, belatedly realising he was crushing her into the mattress.

  “Hmmmm,” she said, a pleased murmur that reassured him she was floating too.

  She barely stirred as he withdrew and settled himself by her side, pulling her back into his arms. He spooned around her, nuzzling her neck, and she sighed.

  “Are you well, love? I didn’t hurt you?”

  A barely there shake of her head and another contented mumble was all the answer he got. King smiled, not above feeling a little smug. Not bad for her first time then, and now they would have plenty of time to practise. Practise did make perfect, after all. His hand slid to her belly, and
he experienced a jolt of shock as he realised there might be child taking root there even now. Now, now, King, don’t get ahead of yourself. There was a deal to organise before they began their own brood. He would not be as heedless as Charlie had been, though granted he could understand the temptation well enough now. Perhaps he ought to have taken precautions this time too, but… but it had been the first time and he had wanted it to be perfect and… and it had been. He must hope that he had got away with it this once and be more careful until they were properly settled. Asking her to marry him would be a good start, he realised.

  “Livvy,” he said, leaning over to look at her face. Her hair had fallen over her eyes and he smoothed it back again. “Livvy, darling. We need to talk.”

  “Hmmmm,” she said, not opening her eyes.

  “It’s important.”

  He stared down at her, but there was not even a flicker of her eyelids.

  “Livvy. I want you to marry me… I can’t go on without you, love. I won’t. I’ll find a way to make things right. I will, I swear but… but say you’ll have me, love. Please?”

  King waited, his heart beating in his throat, until a soft snore made him realise he was not about to get an answer.

  “Olivia Penrose, you are the most frustrating creature on god’s earth,” he said with a huff. “Of all the times to fall asleep.”

  King listened to her breathing, slow and steady, remembering then that she’d been up since dawn and had hardly stopped all day. What a marvellous day it had been too, so full of joy and laughter, so full of Livvy. Well, let her sleep then. The morning would come soon enough, and then he would do whatever it took to make her his wife.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  26th December 1818.

  No goodbyes, no fond farewells, but a startling revelation.

  Livvy stared down at King. He was sprawled on his belly, dark hair a tousled mess, one arm flung across the mattress in the place she’d been laying just moments ago. She let out a ragged breath, drinking him in, engraving the sight of him on her mind. Last night was something she would never forget. That he had made love to her was still a surprise, a shock really, for she had thought he would not do so if… but it was of no matter. He loved her. They’d just got so carried away that… that he’d not stopped at the crucial moment. Oh dear. Something else not to think of. No doubt it was nothing to trouble herself about. Ceci was often pregnant, it was true, but it had taken them some months to conceive Harry. It would be dreadfully bad luck to fall pregnant the first time so she would not dwell on it.

  She really must go. All her things were packed already, had been since before Christmas, so there were only a few bits and pieces to arrange, but she must wash and dress. Livvy sighed, wanting desperately to reach out and stroke his hair but not daring to disturb him. If he woke and came down to see her off, she could not keep her composure. She doubted she would leave at all. She would weep and cling to him and he would be honour bound to ask her to marry him, for everyone would guess and… No.

  Her plans to marry another man might be ruined, but there was still her Aunt Agatha. If only she could get the woman on side. Just because Charlie thought badly of her was no reason Livvy would not like and respect her. Just the reverse, in fact. She had been dying to meet her forthright aunt ever since she’d first heard talk of her. If only she could persuade her to sponsor Harry, maybe even give Susan a come out… Oh, surely it was not too much to ask if she was as wealthy as Charlie seemed to think. He might be too proud to ask, but she was not, and Charlie would just have to bear it. If he hadn’t got them into this fix it wouldn’t be necessary, so his pride would have to be swallowed.

  With one last, longing look at the man who had stolen her heart, Livvy padded silently to the door and left.

  King awoke slowly. He was drowsy and content, and the bed was warm. As his senses returned to him, he remembered the night before, making love to Livvy, and the little devil falling asleep when he was trying to propose to her. A smile curved over his mouth and he reached for her, finding only an empty space. Blinking in the dim light of the bedroom, he sat up and looked about, realising that the house was awake. Of course, Livvy would have left before anyone saw her. Not to worry, he would corner her after breakfast. They could take a walk down to the beach. That would be a romantic place to propose again, in the place where he’d first kissed her. He could hear George and the distant bang, bang of his new drum. Good God, what had Charlie been thinking? He chuckled and got to his feet, about to ring the bell for Walsh when he remembered it was Boxing Day and all the servants had a day off. Ah well, he’d have to see to himself then. A shame. He’d have liked to have seen Walsh’s face when he told him he was going to marry Livvy. The devil would be dreadfully smug, but King didn’t care a jot. He was too happy.

  It took him a deal longer than usual to wash, shave and dress, not least because he couldn’t find half of the things he needed, and the water was freezing bloody cold. It woke him up, at least. By the time he was decent, he made his way down the stairs to the breakfast parlour to discover the table had not been laid. Frowning, he moved towards the kitchens to discover Susan holding court. The children were all sat around the big table eating their breakfast while she made up a tray.

  “Right, I’m going to take this up to Mama. Harry, do keep an eye on George. He’s not to have the jam pot again. He ate two whole mouthfuls before I got it off him. I don’t want him to be sick.”

  She turned and jumped a little as she saw him. “Oh, g-good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he said, smiling at everyone. They were looking at him a little strangely and his hand went to his cravat. Perhaps he’d made a mess of it. “Are we breakfasting in here today? That’s cosy.”

  “Well, it seemed easier than laying everything up for just us. Mama is too tired to come down this morning,” Harry said, a little stiffly.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Is Li… is your aunt up yet, Harry?”

  Harry’s eyes widened. “Why… why yes. I thought… Oh… that’s why you didn’t come down to see her off. I did think it rather out of character for you to be so...” He broke off.

  King’s heart did an odd little jump in his chest and thudded harder. “See her off,” he repeated, frowning. “Off where?”

  “She’s gone to Bath,” Susan said, watching him carefully. “You knew she was going today.”

  “Well yes, but…” But it had never occurred to him that she would leave without saying goodbye, that she would leave him sleeping and… and go off to her bloody aunt’s party to find herself a husband. “When?” he asked. His stomach had tied itself in a knot and he felt sick.

  “Two hours ago, at least,” Harry said, sympathy in his eyes now.

  “I must go after her,” he said, panic setting in. Oh God, she didn’t know he wanted to marry her. She thought he’d taken his pleasure with her and… and… Heaven’s above surely the wretched woman knew him well enough to realise he would never have done so if he hadn’t meant to make it right. “I need a carriage, a horse… anything.”

  He must have sounded desperate as Harry leapt to his feet and took his arm.

  “King, come and sit down and have some breakfast and…”

  “I don’t want any bloody breakfast,” he said, with such force Harry jumped and George stared at him wide eyed.

  “Ing?” he said.

  King gathered himself. “I… I beg your pardon, Harry but… but I wish to marry Livvy and… and she’s gone off to your aunt’s to find herself a husband and…”

  Harry let out a little whoop and Susan ran to him, clutching at his arm and tugging at him until he bent for a kiss. “Oh, I say, King, that’s… that’s marvellous news,” Harry exclaimed.

  “No, it isn’t,” King said in frustration. “Not if she’s gone. I must go after her, she doesn’t know…”

  The back door crashed open and Walsh staggered through. His normally immaculate valet was dishevelled, unshaven, and looked very much like he’d s
lept in a bush.

  “Morning,” he rasped, swaying a little. “Any chance of some coffee.”

  “Never mind coffee,” King said, striding over to Walsh and grabbing his arms. “This is an emergency. Livvy has gone and before I got the chance to ask her to marry me.” He gave the man a hard, meaningful glare until the significance of what he’d said sunk into Walsh’s sodden brain. From the stench of him, he’d had a skinful. A good job King hadn’t known wherever the stash was all this time, but he and Spargo had clearly made a night of it. Spargo was now lumbering up the garden towards them, weaving back and forth across the path as he went.

  “Before you asked…” Walsh repeated, hazily trying to focus on King. His eyes widened abruptly. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh,” King growled. “I must go after her at once.”

  “How, though, that’s the question,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Papa took the carriage. We’ve no other horses. You’ll have to take the dog cart and pony into Bude and see if you can hire a carriage but seeing as it’s Boxing day…” he trailed off with a shrug.

  King wanted very much to scream but forced the urge back down.

  “Right, well. I’ll deal with that when I get there. Harry, brew some strong coffee and pour as much as it into Walsh as you can manage. I’ll go and pack.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” Walsh said, taking a stumbling step forward and then clutching at a chair back. He’d gone an alarming shade of green.

  “Oh, yes. If you want to stop me, you must sober up. Come on, Walsh, old man. I need you.”

  Walsh gave a sharp nod and then clutched at his head. “Yes. Yes, sir. I’ll… work on that.”

  King ran back to his room and dragged out his travelling chest. Everything got thrown in with more speed than efficiency, and he had knew Walsh would give him hell for days, but he couldn’t care less. He must get to Livvy. That she had snuck away from him… No, not thinking of that. She had her reasons, no doubt. Bloody ridiculous ones, but there would have been reasons, and she could damned well explain them to him in detail once they were married. Once his worldly goods had been crammed into the chest and the lid forced shut, King went and gave Walsh’s belongings the same treatment. He cringed to think what retribution his valet would have in store for this outrageous turn of events, but at least the fellow could boast about having had the Earl of Kingston pack his belonging for him. No doubt he would too, the devil.